


a sense of comfort

by prunuspersica (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Conversations, I love Will Graham, Love Confessions, M/M, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Requited Love, ans i’m on season 1 please don’t spoil anything i am but a young artist just feeling a lot, honestly this is how id imagine their conversation abt feelings would go, multi chapter sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 19:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13620375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/prunuspersica
Summary: chapter 1: will and hannibal have a talk about feelings.dedicated to my best pal who really loves hannibal and i love u





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> boy oh boy i luv will graham.

Will stared at Hannibal blankly. Blankly, but full of thought—Will had always looked at him differently, a perfectly delicate mix of admiration, fear... hunger?—and now of course, he was confused. Will was confused about a lot of things. Mostly Hannibal.

Methodical as a serial killer—but he couldn’t be...  
Talented; with a gift for cooking and human science, and he always seemed to know exactly what was going on in Will’s tangled, twisted mind. Yet somehow this look perplexed them both. And Hannibal looked at him strangely too, usually when Will wasn’t looking. With a subtle smile on his face and a pang of something in his chest.

Will stood still.

Hannibal poured some wine, hoping it would snap Will out of it. He always did everything, said everything, with such intent, knowing, purpose.

But with Will it was different. It was like he knew everything about him, and yet he couldn’t phrase any of it quite as well. And there was this attachment, this longing that struck Hannibal deep in his chest, an ache, that nobody and nothing else could activate.

He never felt that ache in his chest about anyone but Will Graham.

Will Graham and his messy curly hair, Will Graham and his piercing green eyes, empty but so, so full of emotion, Will Graham and his scent of cheap aftershave and dogs and emotional distress. Will Graham and the way he stared. Nobody was quite like him.

“Will?”

“Will,” Hannibal said, more of a statement than an inquiry of _are you... conscious?_

Will blinked, and shook his head.

“Y-yeah, sorry,” he replied, disheveled and clearly in the midst of deep thought, still. “Thinking. I’m sorry, Hannibal.”

“No need. I make a living off other people’s thoughts, do I not?” Hannibal smirked.

“And I suppose I make mine off my own, or rather pretending to be someone else, or—“

“Sit down, Will.” He obliged. “Wine?”

Hannibal held out a glass of red wine for Will to take, and he did. They both took sips.

“Mm. Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure,” replied Hannibal. There it was again. That strange look—admiration, confusion—this time from both of them. The room filled with tangible silence. And that note of longing.

“So, I assume you want to talk to me about something,” Will said. His voice was weaker than usual, a sign to Dr. Lecter that something is really taking a toll on him.

It should be the gore. It should be the murder, the reenactments, the bodies and organs and blood, so much blood, and yet it wasn’t.

“What’s going on?” Hannibal asked. There’s a beat.

“You strikes me as the kind of person who usually has a firm grasp on what’s going on,” Will responded with a quiet chuckle. The sparkle in his eyes came back for a second, and at his own joke.

“No, Will, in your mind.”

“Of course. Psychiatrist shit.”

“Will.” Hannibal’s voice lowered. Will cringed at himself.

“Hannibal, I’m sorry. It’s-it’s a lot. There’s a lot,” Will explained... No real explanation, but the tone was there.

“Well, we have all night, don’t we?”

“It’s not like I get sleep anyway, Doctor,” Will agreed.

“And you are always welcome to stay over. You never have. Why is that?” Hannibal inquired.

“My dogs, mostly.” Will looked down into his wineglass and wondered if Hannibal would ever ask certain questions.

“A sense of comfort, I suppose.” Hannibal’s voice was raspy and smooth at the same time. Will’s eyes hurt.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Will responded. “Safety, comfort, familiarity...”

“Does anything else make you feel like that? Something, someone?”

Will’s mind froze, his heartbeat fading into the background noise. _Hannibal._

“You want me to say this.”

“Say what?”

“You want me to say that I find comfort and safety and-and home, in you, Hannibal,” Will stuttered. His chest ached. His eyes burned.

“I cannot share my partiality to answers, I simply want the truth from you—so do you find that sense of trust and comfort in me?”

The silence rose up again, thick like treacle and tense enough to snap under any pressure. Will nodded.

Hannibal felt that ache again.

“I’ve always felt differently about you, Will.”

”Tell me.” 


	2. love? yeah, that sounds right.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2: the moment you’ve all been waiting for, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still dedicated to the one and only motherfuckin space worm man, my best friend xoxo. enjoy

“That is not my job right now, Will. My job is to—“ 

“Let me stop you right there,” Will blurted. “If we’re talking about our-our feelings, for each other, I think it should be mutual. You’re not my real psychiatrist, I don’t pay you, you’re just my friend.” Will’s heart sank.

“You’d rather I be more than your friend?” Hannibal asked, with a knowing smirk. 

“Well, yes.” Will was a blunt man, once you let him open up, let him blossom. He hadn’t blossomed in a long time. 

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Will,” Hannibal said, rising from his seat to come closer to Will. 

“You’re going to tell me that I’m already hurting too much—and you’re not wrong—“ 

“Let me tell explain, please.” Hannibal stood in front of Will at an abstract angle. 

“Of course,” Will breathed. His voice was shaky.

“Will, I have never felt the same way about anyone as I do with you.”

Will’s cheeks felt hot and his chest felt fluttery. Back at ya. 

“I do not think I had ever felt this before... this pang of hunger—or rather something I cannot put my finger on—deep in my chest, every time I even thought about you, Will.” 

Will sat in awe. Nobody had ever professed their interest in him quite like Hannibal. It was reminiscent of his few-and-far-between memories of high school girlfriends but this time it was different; he could feel that Hannibal wouldn’t leave him sitting in a thrift-store suit on the steps up to a school in the dark, crying into a cup of watered-down punch to the sound of muffled pop music. Hannibal, he would never harm him. 

“And I know we feel things differently—in fact I think both of us are unique from most in that facet—but at least, I would like to know how you feel about me now,” Hannibal explained. “Love is confusing.” 

“You’re damn right it is, Dr. Lecter.”

“Feelings are fascinating, don’t you think?” Hannibal inquired. “I suppose that’s why I enjoy being a psychiatrist.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So, how do you feel?”

“A lot.” 

Will sat there panicking and vividly pondering his own strange attachment, his own attraction to Hannibal. His friend? Possibly his psychiatrist? The lines were blurred and at this point, he didn’t care. He told himself to do what felt right for once, contrary to the rest of his life. 

And what felt right was to stay still and just look at Hannibal’s face, analyzing his every feature, speck of eye colour, his bone structure, every little wrinkle. It didn’t seem awkward, or weird, because Hannibal and Will didn’t use those words. Just what they did.

Hannibal held his hand out for Will to pull himself up, and he gladly obliged. They stood parallel, Will’s chin slightly tilted up so their faces were roughly at the same place. 

“Will?”

“Y-yeah?” 

“May I please kiss you?” 

“God, yes.” 

Hannibal pulled Will closer, their chests flush, and Will felt Hannibal’s warm breath on his face, closed his eyes and let it happen. Their lips collided in a gentle, hungry kiss. Will’s heart raced, eagerly entwining his arms around Hannibal’s body as they kissed. Hannibal could feel the rattling pulse of Will’s heartbeat against his chest. 

It felt foreign and scary to Will, and yet it felt so natural and easy and amazing, and Hannibal simply felt like he was placing the last two pieces into a jigsaw puzzle—but with more emotion and a sort of attraction, both that he had never quite felt before. Neither of them wanted to pull away. Finally, Hannibal did. 

“Love?”

Will froze for a moment. It sounded so... sappy, and gross, and cliché, but correct. He was in love with a man. Will loved Hannibal. Hannibal loved Will.

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> putting it out there that i am not a pro-“uwu gay sinner boy!” i think that culture is fucking nasty fetishization as a qu/eer person and my pointing out that will would be experiencing a lot of confusion and pointing out that he is /in love with a man/ is more along the lines of will finally coming to terms with “oh yeah shit i’m gay... and this is who i am and what i feel” instead of “uwu my soft precious bean is gay!!! he’s such a sinner!! i’m going to hell for writing this!!!” because that’s awful especially as someone who has experienced the “oh fucking jesus no i’m queer” and is still finding my identity. i think it’s important to write these kinds of things if you feel like it!! 
> 
> i’d also like to point out that writing explicit consent is good. write explicit consent more. we all want our lovely favourite characters to be happy. even if you’re writing angst, just tag your fucking dub/noncon. please, hannibal fandom, write enjoyment and agreement and if you write noncon/dubcon TAG IT! 
> 
> i felt the need to say that. thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> to my best pal: THIS IS FUN !!! GIVE ME FEEDBACK I LOVE U


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